


Bursting Into Life

by filzmonster



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Gen, M/M, Major Character Undeath, au-ish, hints of Break/Gilbert but only if you squeez very hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:24:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7852459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filzmonster/pseuds/filzmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath Break is dying ... is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bursting Into Life

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Look what I found digging through my old files. Something I wrote years ago when the possibility of Break not dying was still in reach. Damn it, Jun.

_» I need your grace to remind me to find my own._  
_If I lay here_  
_I I just lay here  
_ _Would you lie with me and just forget the world?_

 

 

Break was dying. Finally. It was about time.

He wouldn't have thought that dying would increase his senses. Wasn't death supposed to numb everything? But he could almost _feel_ every grain of dust touching his skin, he could taste the heavy air on his tongue and smell the sent of a won battle. Some blood and sweat included, but he was used to this kind of smelling, he'd been a knight after all.

It took him a moment before he realized that he'd already started to think in the past about himself, and it made his lips curl. Yes, he was ready for this one last battle. Just that … it wasn't a battle after all. In his long and hard life, he'd learned quiet a lot of lessons, and one was definitely that letting go sometimes was more difficult than holding on. But this … letting go of _this_ … it was as easy as eating a piece of cake.

He'd been prepared for this a long time now, had even been counting down the days even though he hadn't known on what day he could finally leave this world. And now he was here, laying on the cold, hard ground, feeling stones in his back and heard how the walls that surrounded him down here in Sablier crumbled like they were made out of glass. It was fine. It was alright.

Somehow he'd managed it. And now he could be sure that everyone was safe and sound, able to continue living, experiencing, going on adventures, having fun. They would be even able to hold that tea party Oz was talking about … and he was finally able to leave this world in peace.

He wasn't sad that he would die alone. It was better that way. He would not be able to go in peace if he had to hear the shed tears. He'd rather leave in utterly silence. Because the silence mixed very good with the darkness that surrounded him and he'd always had an eye for the beauty of things that went along well.

It was funny because somehow his thoughts couldn't come to an end, even though he wished nothing more than for them to finally stop spinning in his head like a roller coaster.

Scenes from his life appeared in his mind like sudden lightning during a thunderstorm, and he vaguely started to ask some questions.

Like … who would drink tea with Lady Sharon in the afternoon now? Would Reim take his role and join her? Or maybe Oz could do this (if he was still alive, that is, but Break was pretty sure that uncute brat had somehow made it...)? Perhaps even Gilbert would … naaah. Gilbert definitely wasn't the type for long afternoons in suffocating salons. He was such an impatient fellow … and always so uncomfortable around women … he wouldn't stand it.

Break thought that of all those options, Reim would be the most perfect one. Oh well, if he had that amount of free time, after all. Even if he probably won't have so much work now that Break wasn't there anymore to hand over his own paper work to him. Yeah. Reim probably would have a lot more spare time now.

Maybe he would miss it.

The tea with Lady Sharon. Reims annoyed voice. Break would definitely miss those things even though he would not have a consciousness to _really_ miss them. He just figured out now that he was a little bit sad and that he didn't appreciate those things when he had the time to. He was too focused on waiting for his death …

But did it really matter after all? Those moments of regret, the would soon be over just like his life. Maybe it was alright for him to spend the last few seconds with those regretful thoughts. His whole life has been a pile of shards made of mistakes and regrets, so the sadness and bitterness he felt now was nothing new. He'd just hoped … somehow … that _actually dying_ would bring him peace. But now even his redemption was turning into something he wished wouldn't be like it was.

_How fitting._

A quiet sigh escaped his chapped lips and not even he himself could tell if it was out of relief or grieve. It wasn't important, but Break was curious. Even now, he was curious. How could there be such a feeling like _curiosity_ when he was about to die? He shouldn't be that surprised; it was a strange feeling for a strange man and he has never been anything else but strange.

After some moments passed where the crumbling slowly came to an end and the only sounds were the ones Break made while filling his lungs with dusty air, he came to the conclusion that he was relieved after all. He fulfilled her wish, he could now follow Lady Shelly into the black nothingness of death and it would be alright. His weak body that felt so heavy now would turn light like smoke and he would leave.

Just that … he didn't feel it. The lightness he'd imagined during his most bitter moments when he'd wished for nothing else than his death and the only thing that had driven him forward was the thought of not being able to die just yet. His body remained heavy, lying on the hard ground. And even though his eye was closed, he could still see some light – metaphorically, of course, but still.

What was this? Why couldn't he just die already? He was ready for this. He _wished_ for this. He had nothing left … hadn't he?

It was then that he heard the approaching footsteps. He tried to figure out who it was only by the sound of the boots on the ground, but it wasn't until the smell of cold tobacco reached him that he realized it was Gilbert who fastened his steps out of mere instinct and sat down next to him.

Gilbert didn't say a word until he'd reached for Break's wrist and searched for a pulse and Break didn't even bother to say anything, too. He was tired after all. A tired, dying man who wasn't in the mood to comfort his useless subordinate …

“Thank God, you're breathing!”, Gilbert finally exclaimed and let go of Break's wrist, letting his arm fall to the ground lifeless and numb. Because Break himself actually was too weak to hold it up himself. The promised lightness still hasn't reached his bones and skin, what a shame.

“Are you … awake?”, Gilbert continued hesitantly and flicked softly against Break's forehead, making him grumble in annoyance. He forced himself to twitch his eyebrows and force a mocking smirk on his lips.

“'Course I am. Stupid”, he somehow managed to rasp, his voice sounding surprisingly strong. Maybe this was his last grain of strength? Maybe it would finally be over soon? Took him long enough …

“That's good to hear.” Gilbert's voice sounded calm and strong, just like Gilbert himself had gotten calm and strong during the last day. And in that moment, seconds before his death, Break was finally able to admit that the weak little kid from that time was no longer, but that it had turned into a strong, independent adult who managed to overcome most of his weaknesses. Something Break had never been able to do.

Gilbert's presence … usually it annoyed Break. It made him sick to his stomach to the point where he sometimes really couldn't _stand_ being even _near_ Gilbert because … because he had been so much like Break and somehow also completely different. And it had been so painful.

But now … now it felt warm. And light. Gilbert being near him made him feel at ease. The vibrating rays of Gilbert's own strength made their way over to Break and he could feel them on his skin, sinking into his bones, and there it finally was. The lightness he'd been waiting for. It just … was different then from what he'd expected.

He felt how his body was lifted awkwardly, and then there was Gilbert's right arm, supporting Break's legs as his subordinate carried him on that broad back of his that had gotten so strong over all those years and Break has never really noticed it. He could feel Gilbert's strong heartbeat and somehow his own, weak heart stumbled along, started to beat in a faster and stronger rhythm.

At first Break wanted to protest as Gilbert slowly made his way back to wherever he intended to go to, but then he decided not to do so. He also decided not to ask about the others, because maybe he was a coward and wanted to die with the imagination that they were all alright. And maybe they were … who knew.

His arms dangled limply over Gilbert's shoulders and he could feel the patch of skin where his left arm would have been if he hadn't severed it. Such a shame … such a pretty left arm. Gone. It took all of Break's will power to shift his position enough so that his arm softly stroke over Gilbert's left shoulder. It should have been a sign of concern, a gesture to say all the words Break would never _ever_ dare to say aloud. 'I'm so very proud of you. Well done.'

But Gilbert seemed to understand nevertheless, because somehow he'd always done just that. Understood. Just like when he saved Break from the Baskervilles. And Break has always understood Gilbert, like when he'd known that he would return to Oz' side. They never talked about all this, but they understood. It was their mutual understanding that made it so easy for Break to let his guard go down for a few moments and let out some heavy breaths against the soft skin of Gilbert's neck.

His subordinate chuckled a bit, never stumbling in the rhythm of his steps, so strong he was.

“Hey, Break”, he said, his voice as calm as a starlit night, “I'm glad you're still alive.”

A little bit surprised Break lifted an eyebrow and buried his face in those black strands of hair. “Is that so …”, he responded simply, the words nothing more than a soft whisper because he really didn't want to raise his voice. Silence and whispers were so much more fitting …

“Yes”, Gilbert replied and nodded carefully. “Because I could really use a left arm. Are you interested?”

Break could hear the cheeky smile in Gilbert's voice and he didn't like it, but at the same time he was impressed. This was truly a different person, and maybe he could come to like this new Gilbert, if he just had enough time. But he didn't have, did he? Because he started to wish that he had …

“Oh my ~”, he chirped, trying to sound as carefree as possible. “I'm afraid, my little Raven, I would make a _horrible_ left arm ~”

It was the best way to say 'no' without actually saying 'because I am going to die soon' he could think of. And yes, he didn't even understand himself why he tried to spare Gilbert from those harsh words, because he'd never done so, he'd always made sure to let everyone know he was about to die soon, but he also didn't care about it. Dying, he thought, was a good reason to be kind for once.

But even now … even now Gilbert merely laughed a bit and tilted his head back, the locks tickling Break's forehead and cheeks. He smelled like blood and dust and tobacco and Break inhaled it deeply.

“That's alright”, his dark voice said, sounding more at ease than ever. “ It's okay if you lack the skills. I guess I haven't been a good left eye, too.”

With a quiet smile Break thought back of that moment Gilbert had kicked him in the back, yelled at him, scolded him for his childish act … and his only thought was 'you've been the best left eye I could have asked for'. But he didn't say those words. After all … he wasn't dying just now. So maybe he would say them later. When there was lightness. And silence. And darkness. But not now.

He nodded slowly, knowing that Gilbert felt his chin pressed against his back, and let out a small sigh once again. Just this time … he knew it was out of relief.

So what if he'd lost his one purpose in life? What if he'd finally fulfilled her wish? What if that reason to keep fighting was gone? There were still plenty of reasons left. The tea time with Lady Sharon. The work he would pass on to Reim. Being Gilbert's left arm (even if he hadn't said 'yes' now, but he would perhaps, maybe it was time to open up to people a bit, because they probably deserved it.)

So yeah, maybe he was dying, he thought while he felt himself drift into the deep sleep of the living. Maybe he couldn't live forever. But that didn't have to mean he couldn't live for a little while longer.

 


End file.
